The ramblings, epiphanies and tantrums of a mom …

Monthly Archives: March 2013

To answer your questions…Yes. She is wearing that shirt today. No. She doesn’t need an extra jacket just in case the first I put on her doesn’t do the trick. Yes. She is eating that for lunch again today. And NO! For the sixth time, she cannot have a third lollipop just because she is crying for one.

I’m compeltely convinced that Pokemon was created simply to drive parents straight to the brink of insanity, because my daughter’s obsession with these damn jibberish-speaking, freaky-looking creatures has pushed me to right to the edge and I swear that with the next mention of Pikachu, pokeballs, or the sound of her desperately pleading and begging for yet another pack of stupid cards…I’m officially jumping. Head first.

*Please commiserate with me by sharing the most annoying toy obsession you child ever had or has, make me feel like I am not alone, and most importantly, save me from throwing my Mommy self right over the ledge…

Because it really, really seems like such a good idea at the time…
Until 5:48 am rolls around and bites you in your tired Mommy ass as a little bright-eyed and bushy-tailed five-year-old is breathing her morning breath in your face while bellowing the words “Mommy! Time to wake up because I really wants some breakfast of pancakes NOW please!”

This. Usually sprinkled with those fake little bursts of laughter, a few rounds of blurting out “Oh, really?” and a couple of “Uh huh. Go on’s” to make it seem like I truly care.
It’s a skill folks. It’s taken years to perfect.
And it’s a skill I am rather f#*king proud of.
Just saying.

Olivia, 5: “Mommy, I’m not sure if you know this but I’m actually Irish.”
Mommy: “Yep. I know you are.”
Olivia, 5: “Well, I bet you didn’t know I am also Mexican.”
Mommy: “Actually, I did not know that.”
Olivia, 5: (dances a little jig, kicks up her feet, and throws her hands up in the air) “Guess what I am now? Ya give up?
I’m a Mexican leprechaun!”
Mommy: “Liv, despite the fact you are 0% Mexican, that is probably going to be the funniest thing I hear all damn day today, so thank you.”
Olivia, 5: (still dancing her Mexican leprechaun dance)

You never really know how strong your child is until they have to be held down for a blood test at the pediatrician.
Turns out my kid is more powerful than a tornado, hurricane, and earthquake combined into one evil, relentless force.
And those three nurses who had the pleasure of assisting me in the near impossible task of restraining her screeching, flailing self shall never, ever be the same again. Poor ladies.

I Used To Be Sweet, Innocent, and Patient…
(But Then I Became a Mom and This Shit Happened):
1. Being subjected to twelve minutes of intense temper tantrums, complete with ear piercing screams, over hairstyle malfunctions.
2. Tending to multiple diarrhea diaper blowouts during the wee hours of the morning and not realizing most of it ended up on my sleeve until hours later when my husband asked “Is that poop or chocolate on your sleeve?”
3. Having to listen to endless rounds of sibling rivalry over such important things as whether to watch Spongebob or Strawberry Shortcake on TV.
4. Consoling a crying child because they lost their pink elephant stuffed animal that they snuck out of the house after I specifically told them to leave in their room because Target doesn’t allow pink elephants inside.
5. Busting my ass in the kitchen to put a healthy dinner on the table only to be told they’d really rather have a peanut butter and jelly sandwich in between making gagging noises as they chew.
6. Learning that not only did the dog shit in the house, then step in it and track it all over the house…so did my child.
7. That when my child tells me they can hold it for another ten minutes while shopping in the supermarket, they can’t and will most likely let it flow right over the bananas, box of Cocoa Krispies and bag of dog food in the cart.
8. Learning that when a four-year-old decides she is strong enough to handle pouring from a gallon sized jug of milk, the spill she creates will cover each and every tile on the kitchen floor.
9. That no matter how nice I am, Grandma will always be considered nicer because “she never yells like I always do.”
10. That every single time my child throws up, it is fully guaranteed that the vomit will land on me.

This.
Tonight.
AND the kids in bed by 8:00 pm with out any “emergency” exits for a cup of water, to kiss the cat goodnight, to use the potty, to beg for one last snack, to beckon for help to find the “lost” stuffed animal owl they strategically hid under their bed, to give a twenty minute recap of their day at school, to ask why the sky is blue, or to debate which One Direction band member is the cutest.
Motherhood.
Like a boss.
(Until tomorrow morning when they awake and I get knocked right back on my sorry Mommy ass, but until then I shall bask in my glory…)

Just a small sampling of the thought-provoking questions Olivia blessed me with today…
1. “Mom, do you believe the Easter Bunny poops jellybeans? I do.”
2. “Why do girls have a pagina and boys have that stick thingy?”
3. “What is it like in that place called heaven?”
4. “Why can’t the cat’s tail cover his butthole so I don’t have to always look at it when he walks by?”
5. “Do you want to see the ginormous poopy I just made in the potty?”
6. “Can I have a third juicebox?”
7. “Why can’t I have a third juicebox?”
8. “Does Santa watch me all year long or just when it is close to Christmas time?”
9. “Why aren’t you answering me, Mommy!?”
10. “Do I really have to go to bed now?”

And I won’t even mention the thick coating of germs on each and every surface in the place that will no doubt land my kids in the pediatrician’s office within three days of being there.
Ok, maybe I will mention it.
Just another reason to add to the list of many reasons why I loathe the place and that dirty ass rat that lives there. ..

Mommy: (wipes a blob of pink yogurt of off Olivia’s left cheek)
Olivia, 5: “Aw, Mom. Come on already! Now why did ya go and do that for? Don’t cha know I was saving that for dessert?”
Mommy: “Good one, Liv. Which master of sarcasm taught you that one?”
Olivia, 5: (smirks and points at Mommy)
Mommy: “Well done, little one. Well done.”

This shit’s gotta stop.
I spend more time correcting your “corrections” than I do on the actual text I am sending to someone. If I wanted to substitute the word “penis” instead of “pencil” I’d spell it that way.
Now, mind your penises’s and q’s, would ya?

Or perhaps it was the fact I’ve been wearing the same faded black yoga pants for the past three days, or that I haven’t showered in over 48 hours, or the crusty glob of macaroni and cheese smushed into my shirt sleeve, or the sea of crushed goldfish cracker crumbs on the bottom of my purse, or the Strawberry Shortcake sticker hanging off the ass of my pants, or the unintentionally mismatched socks on my feet, or the fact I have a tantruming child clinging to my right leg while desperately begging and pleading with every last ounce of energy she has in her five-year-old body for another f#*king Oreo cookie…

Camryn, 7: (staring at computer screen) “Um, O-M-G! Man, looks like Mommy’s got herself a lot of likes on her Facebook page!”
Olivia, 5: “Wow. That’s a really big number.”
Camryn, 7: “Mom, how in the world did you get all these likes?”
Mommy: “I have a newsflash, kids. I don’t know how to put this, but your Mommy’s kid of a big deal. People know me.”
Camryn, 7 & Olivia, 5: (simultaneously roll eyes and walk away)

While also shattering my dreams of ever getting my hands on that Mommy of the Year Award since…
a) On the rare occasion that I do attempt to bake, without fail, my cupcakes are always lopsided.
b) I totally can’t do any of those super intricate braids in my daughters’ hair.
c) I send the kids to school with a basic brown-bagged pb & j sandwich instead of a gourmet-style three course meal complete with a fabulous dessert that looks exactly like Spongebob.

Five year Olivia picked this one up at the library today.
She requested it as her bedtime story tonight.
Three pages in and I was already teary-eyed.
I held it together like a champ and read on.
Then, I arrived at the last page.
And that’s when the flood gates crashed open and the tears started flowing.
Beware fellow Mommies.
This one is absolutely guaranteed to turn you into a sobbing mess.
Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

This. Without fail. Every f#*king time the phone rings…
“No, no, no. Don’t be silly. Of course this isn’t an inconvenient time. It always sounds like a circus is parading through my house while my kids slowly kill a cat. Now, what was that you were saying?”

Motherhood: Because some days a simple cup of hot tea, an uninterrupted visit to the bathroom, a late-night trip to the supermarket, or an extra long wait while at the dentist’s office sans kids truly do seem like a thin slice of heaven right here on earth. True story.

This year’s events shall include the following super challenging, extremely frustrating, and straight up exhausting games:

FREESTYLE FOOD SHOPPING: Push a shopping cart filled with a fifty pound child, bread, milk, eggs, and a box of Lucky Charms up and down each aisle of the supermarket while avoiding knocking down various displays of items. Bonus points if you remember to actually get the milk which was the reason you actually entered the store in the first place.

AQUATIC WRANGLING: Wrangle your child, bribe them with whatever it takes to enter the tub, avoid a flood in the bathroom, keep their whining and screaming to a minimum and have them somehow end up dirt-free.

EARLY MORNING EXIT: make sure the child has been dressed in clean underwear and a shirt and pants that actually match, has brushed their teeth, combed their hair and eaten their breakfast. This must be completed in approximately five minutes since each and every morning is rushed, chaotic and extremely stressful.

CREATIVE COOKING: Think up, shop for, prepare and and be ready to serve kid-friendly foods in a moment’s notice with backup plans A and B ready to go for when the first course of food the child requested gets rejected for no other reason than they simply changed their mind.

EXITLESS BEDTIME: Get your child to bed with no more than six exits from their room once the lights have been turned out. Exit excuses for a glass of water, a seventeenth hug or assistance performing a search and recovery mission for a stuffed animal will not be tolerated and may be cause for disqualification.

FULLY FOCUSED DRIVING: Able to safely operate a vehicle while juggling a minimum of 17,258 demands and requests from the children which shall begin the second the key enters the ignition.

TELEPHONE CALL DASH: Successfuly complete a phone call without being interrupted by your children, screaming at your children or simply being distracted by your children.

Olivia, 5: “So, Mommy? When you were a baby was Santa a teenager?”
Mommy: “Um, well I don’t know. I think he’s always just been, well…old.”
Olivia, 5: “Oh. I see. So then Santa was a baby right after the dinosaurs were alive! I get it now! Thanks Mom.”
Mommy: “No, thank YOU, Liv. Because for some strange reason, I think I get it now too.”

That moment you realize you’ve won the Mommy Lotto as you glance down at a birthday party invitation your child brought home from school and for the first time ever you see the words “This is a dropoff party” written on it.
So, let me get this straight party mom. You want me to leave my kid in your care while you entertain and feed them while I bask in the glory of two solid hours of kid-free time. Um, yes please. Thank you birthday kid’s mom. Thank. You.

C’mon kids.
Gather round.
For tonight’s reading selection we have this gem.
Now shut off that damn iPad, put away that Nintendo DS, plug all cell phones into their chargers, zip your lips, do your best job of pretending to listen to Mommy read and most importantly, let’s enjoy some freakin’ quality bedtime storytime…right after I steal a quick moment to take care of something super important…which is to update my Facebook status. Yeah, I’ll admit it. I’m just as bad as the rest of em.